Author: limestone-admin
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An Interview with Lia Purpura
By Sophie Weiner +++I found Lia Purpura’s book by chance. Or, it presented itself to me, or it stood out somehow from the other hundreds of poetry collections housed at the very large university library in Lexington. The title stamped across the white spine, It Shouldn’t Have Been Beautiful.
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Don’t Stop Me Now
Christine Quattro, Don’t Stop Me Now, Essay Christine Quattro, Nonfiction Christine Quattro, queen christine quattro, queen essay christine quattro, Queen essay quattroNonfiction by Christine Quattro (November 23, 1991) Five days before Thanksgiving, Freddie Mercury released a statement. It said that he was dying. Twenty-four hours later, he was gone.
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Weddings
Ben Warner fiction, Ben Warner short story, Ben Warner Weddings, Benjamin Warner, Benjamin Warner Weddings, Weddings Ben Warner, Weddings Benjamin WarnerFiction by Benjamin Warner There was a month of them. Saturdays. Back to back without a break. The first was a Catholic ceremony in a church with a ceiling painted midnight blue with silver and yellow constellations.
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Gadzooks! (being an apostrophe to my hands)
Poetry by Jay Hopler What is there in all this clutter / That loves you?
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Asphalt. Pumpernickel. Iron
Andrew Siegrist, Asphalt Andrew Siegrist, Asphalt Pumpernickel Iron, asphalt pumpernickel siegrist, Asphalt siegrist, short fiction siegrist, short story siegristFiction by Andrew Siegrist The boy’s hands smelled like asphalt and the girl held them tight like she was afraid if the world kept spinning she’d lose her balance.
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Mother’s Melittology
Elaina Whitesell, Mother’s Melittology, whitesell melittology, Whitesell mothers, whitesell mothers melittology, Whitesell poem, whitesell poetryPoetry by Elaina Whitesell To lull us, she plunges / her thick, sticky claws into mushy earth and oil // containers, smears her sweet myths on the walls
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Small Talk
dyzak fiction, dyzak short fiction, dyzak short story, lance dyzak, small talk fiction, small talk short fiction, small talk short storyFiction by Lance Dyzak “You look good,” I said, “took care of yourself, seems like.” I meant it, too. There was a feeling of correctness, like finding the thread on a mason jar.